


Blood in the Snow

by arianpine (orphan_account)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Blood, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, One Shot, References to Depression, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/arianpine
Summary: Abeille finds themselves self-harming time and time again. Tonight finds them on the bathroom floor, carving into their fragile skin. A very short one-shot and my first work.





	Blood in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> This work could be extremely triggering to those vulnerable to self harm or blood. Read with caution. That said, I hope you enjoy this one-shot. I spent like 20 minutes on it, and is also my first piece of writing, so excuse any mistakes lmao. Please consider reaching out for help if you struggle with the subject matter that is discussed.

They sat on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, blood dripping from their thigh. Abeille always cut there, it was easy to hide the scars that marred their skin.

Cutting wasn’t a point of pride for Abeille. They weren’t completely sure why they willingly mutilated themselves, but did it regularly nonetheless. It had started with small cuts and simple scratches, using a paper clip. However, that had rapidly devolved into razor blades and blood and long scars. At first Abeille had cried during these weak, vulnerable hours, but as they became more numb cutting was just routine. They worried a bit about infections and the possibility of cutting too deep, but it was at the back of their mind when flesh was being sliced through, leaving beads of blood and bloodied tissues piling up on the floor.

On this cold winter night, Abeille just wanted to feel something. Anything. Their back to a radiator, leaking warmth into the room, Abeille made a series of small cuts along their leg. They healed extremely fast and didn’t leave lasting scars, but were easy to produce thoughtlessly. That was the final goal. Pain, a little bit of blood, and faint scars to serve as memories of their production.

Somewhere downstairs, a clock chimed 2 am. Abeille took a sip of water and collapsed in shame, razor blade strewn on the floor. But that wasn’t the end of the night. After gathering their thoughts, they got back to work. This time they carved deeper into their skin, blood pooling and collecting along the edges of the cuts. Infection be damned, no thought for the future.

For the first time, Abeille decided to cut on her arm. They could just wear long sleeves for a bit, it was an extremely frigid winter anyways. They methodically sliced through their skin 6 times, forming a sort of checkerboard pattern in their frail skin. Blood was leaking out of the wounds, and Abeille rushed to stop the flow. They bandaged their arm and leg and dizzily stumbled off to bed in the next room.

By morning, tissues had been stuffed into a trash can under a bag of chips. Abeille lay snoring in bed, bloody sheets a relic of the dark night.


End file.
